


In The Hall Of The Molehill King

by Dardarot



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, I guess this qualifies as crack treated seriously, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Is that the tag ?, Kylo Ren is a fae prince with the wings of a moth, Mothlo, Mothlo Ren, Oviposition, ThumbREYlina, and an ovipositor for a cock, because Rey is just a thumb-sized human, but I just wanted to write insect porn, or a wingless pixie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 05:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16235423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dardarot/pseuds/Dardarot
Summary: a Mothlo Ren & Thumb-Rey-lina AU





	In The Hall Of The Molehill King

If you take a swallow South of the garden wall, you will find yourself among the land of the _Sky-Walkers_. Do not be fooled by their small stature – they are the rulers of the Meadow. Or they had been, once upon a time. But it’s Fall time now and she is forgiving of no-one and no-body, not even their coruscant wigs. So if you want to survive Winter, do not get off the bird’s back.

And if you happen to fall off of your flying friend’s back and into a pile of dying leaves, be sure to find shelter before the sun does the same. You do not want to be out during the night – it is the time of the _Ren_. The Ren don’t have rainbows catching on their wings. They have no colors but the dark. They patrol the wilting _overground_ and guard the entrances to the bountiful _underground_.  They are the knights of the new ruler of this land – the Molehill King.

But you’ll be relieved to hear that evading the Knights of Ren is not a fruitless endeavor. You can make it past them and you can make it to the undergrounds and you won’t be needing wings at any point in your journey. It wasn’t long ago that a girl no taller than a thumb had done just that.

Rey was to live out the Winter in Unkar Plutt’s burrow. But the rat hasn’t offered her a seat at his table and a warm bed out of the kindness of his heart. His tenants have to scavenge the overgrounds for anything that shines prettily in the morning light. So she gets up with the sun and sinks with it every day.

She failed to chase the light once, but it was one time too many. The Ren were on duty when she finally made it to the entrance to the underground. They asked to see her findings, her entire day’s work. She showed them the mirror shards and the single coin she broke her curfew for. She even pulled out the silver pin with the blue jewel she kept from Plutt’s paws and to herself. Rey owned nothing, so that last find was her treasure.

“That pin,” a voice as deep and dark as the night came from the sky. “It belongs to me.”

The first time Rey met the Master of the Knights of Ren, he shaped himself out of the shadows.

“Finders keepers,” she held it that much closer. “Losers weepers.”

The wings that brought him before her were the same black as the others, draping themselves around his shoulders. They were white, those wide shoulders. His cheeks, as well. The only splash of color was on his juicy lips – as ripe and red as raspberries.

She thought about them, about what they’d taste like, about the word ‘scavenger’ falling off of them. She thought of  his eyes and about getting lost in the dark. And she almost did, she almost wondered too deep as she got swept off her feet.

“If that is true,” his eyes and lips and his everything got that much closer. “Then it’s only fair that I should keep you.”

Two of his too large arms held her against his too wide chest as she slashed his too white cheek and colored it berry red to match his lips. All four of them dropped her and hurried to stop the blood from escaping like she had.

If you were to tell anyone in the Meadow, either winged or legged, that a two-legged thumb-sized girl had outdid and outran the King’s Knights, they would advise you to hush. Nobody outdoes Kylo Ren. Nobody outruns him. But that’s what our little Rey did.

She ran and ran until her little feet couldn’t keep up with her little lungs and then she ran some more. She only slowed down when she made it to an alder tree. That’s when she began climbing and climbing and only stopped once she reached an opening.

But our heroine wasn’t the first to coop up in the holler.

“Who goes there?” a squeak made her stumble and step back. It was a field mouse, a thing so small it made Rey feel almost big. “Who are you?”

“I’m nobody,” she put her good hand on her pin in preparation for a confrontation.

“You wield the Sky-Walker Sapphire,” the mouse moved out of the girl’s way. “You have to be somebody,” her tail swept the sap-polished floor. “Come in.”

Maz Kanata had been living in the Elder Alder ever since the Mole began raising hills. It was big enough to make both herself and our Rey feel smaller than they already were and it was home to enough history to make even the old mouse feel young. The Sky-Walker had watched over the Meadow from this very alder for generations until the branches were cut off and their wings along with them.

Rey saw what had become of their family and tree in the faded figures that spread their wings across the walls. The last one in a row of colorful carvings looked like somebody she had once seen in a daydream. Or a nightmare.

“Ben,” Maz introduced the two to each other. “He was the last of them. The pin had belonged to him.”

She slept with Ben of the Sky-Walkers that night and his family’s Sapphire by her side. She dreamed of him, her prince, and him flying in the daylight again. He had iridescent wings, lily white cheeks and berry red lips. He held out one of his four hands and beckoned her: “Please.” And she was sure she had woken up to him, too, but this was the man she knew only traveled by night.

 The second time she meets Kylo of the Knights of Ren is the first time she meets the Molehill King. He didn’t find the splash of color on his knight’s cheek appealing. She wished she could say the same.

He had called for the one responsible to be brought before his blind eyes. She wished she could say the same. The mole made to move on his three root throne in order to get a better sniff of the scene before him. “My loyal servant, Son of  Darkness, heir apparent to Lord Vader, dispose of this parasite.”

His eyes as black as his King’s were white, but she couldn’t look away. As she knelt before him and his gold pin with the red jewel shard, she heard him say: “Right away, Your Majesty.”

That was the first and last time she met the Molehill King. Kylo Ren had disposed of him like the parasite he had been. Before he took his seat for his own – the Sky-Walker’s throne, his rightful throne  – he returned her pin. “Scavenger,” he started, but stopped himself with what Rey recognized as shame. “ _Rey_ ,” his lips were coated with the sweetest berry red. “I want you to join me. We can rule together and bring a new order to this land. ”

Rey had her treasure back into her own hands – her life, too. She could have ran passed him for a second time – the last time. But she hadn’t stopped thinking about him and his dark voice and his pale shoulders and his _bloody_ mouth. And he moves it again before hers: “You’re not a parasite. Not to me. Join me. _Please_.”

In the hall of the Molehill King, a Sky-Walker prince begged a scavenger to be his queen. And because she had all the power in her hands – the pin that prickled him and her own life – she decided to place it all in his. So she took his hand.

If you were to find yourself over the garden wall on the tail end of autumn, be sure to bring a gift to the bride. Dried fruit, immortal flowers, scavenged shinnies and spider’s silk she has plenty of. As the Molehill Queen, she will never want for anything again. But her favorite were a pair of opalescent wings. “Join me,” he beckoned her a third time before taking her on her first flight.

“They’re beautiful,” she finds her footing in her arms as they find themselves in the Elder Alder. “Did they truly belong to a queen?”

“You’re beautiful,” he caught himself caressing her. “And they were my grandmothers.”

If you want to spend the night in the King and Queen’s land, you can rest easy under any old tree and any new mushroom. The night is for all creatures, both winged and legged. There’s only one rule that you must abide by and only one place in which you can’t take shelter: the Sky-Walker’s family tree.

Maz Kanata had almost broken her tail sweeping the place, but the newlyweds needed a bed to consume their marriage in. So only the whitest of cotton balls were brought for them and only the silkiest of flower petals were laid on top. And that’s the cloud Kylo Ren flew Rey to.

“Are you afraid, my queen?” He lowered her onto the matrimonial bed _– their_ bed – and let her sink into the softness.

She was a leaf at the mercy of the East Wind. Her legs – oh, our little Rey’s little legs were parted and probed and she did shake. She shook under his hands, under the two hands under her spider silk shift, under her knees and under his scrutiny. If it weren’t for his other two hands under her jaw, she might have never faced him, her husband, who was shaking in equal measure.

“No,” she shook some more, but she spoke nonetheless. Her hands stilled his – one on her thigh and one on her cheek. They both took a moment to breathe, to share a gust of wind and pass air between them. “ _You_ are afraid.”

“I’m not a prince,” he pulled his hands away from her and gathered them before his eyes them as they clawed at her clothes, thin white thread getting stuck in his black claws. “I am not Ben Sky-Walker,” he closed his fists one by one and his eyes all at once. “I am a _monster_ ,” he punched the picture of perfection that stood proudly on the wall – the prince.

“I didn’t marry Ben Sky-Walker,” she only had two hands, but she held everything in them. “I married you,” she held his face. “My king,” her mouth was against his cheek and her lips were o his scar – _her_ scar.

They took turns kissing each other, kissing the morning doe out of their eyes, the flowery nectar off their lips. They held each other, gathered themselves closer, crushed their chests together in their attempts to get that much closer. When Rey – our courageous Rey – went deeper instead of closer, let her tongue trespass into his mouth, her husband pulled away as if she were a flame he had flown too close to. But if he did get burnt, he wanted more. 

He and his antennae stood at attention. He heaved and they twitched, his chest inflated and his appendages stood at their ends. Our young king returned to his flame with a heat of his own, with his claws merciless in their maneuvering, scratching her shift clean off her skin, with his tongue curled out in the cavern of her mouth

And our young queen gave him all and she took it all. She gave him her goose’s skin against his fur, her breasts against his pectorals, her thighs atop his own. She took his tongue in her throat and sucked and sucked and –

Our newlyweds were new to this – to _all_ of this.

The first time she saw her husband – all of him was tasting his taste buds, licking his long, long tongue. She was wet with syrup and spit as it cascaded down her chin and trailed between her teats when she started melting. It was neither his or hers, that drool that pooled there. It wasn’t saliva at all, but something all new and all wet. It came from between her legs, from the sugar sweet spot he had been rubbing against, from the place only he would ever know. The first time she saw him was when they pulled away to pant.

He had another appendage, as long and – thanks to her soaking him with her slick – as wet as his tongue. And looking at where it rose and bloomed between her thighs, she understood that she was meant to plant it inside.

“Are you afraid?” the king asked his queen.

“No,” she answered him.

The first time Rey knew Kylo Ren – or even the dead and gone Ben – was with her legs spread on top of him and her knees bent under his own. She lay back against his chest, fur sticking to skin, head resting on shoulders and hair sticking in all directions. He lay back against cotton, arms wrapping around legs, hands holding up breasts and hips slapping buttocks.

Their coupling was a hot exhale in the early winter air, a bead of sweat against a forehead. It was a sweet, sticky and messy ordeal with her womb warm and inviting and his phallus, hard and hurried.  Breasts bounced and thighs trembled. Toes curled and nails scratched. There were moans and there were growls. There were praises and there were cries. And there was a moment when she got that much wetter. That’s when he got that much harder.

“My queen,” he found her ear, red and buried under layers of hair and sweat. “You’re the hottest place I’ve ever been. The sweetest thing I’ve ever known.”

“My king,” she found a finger of his and sucked it in. “You’re the biggest thing I’ve ever climbed.”

The first time Rey knew Kylo Ren, she knew herself. She knew herself to be small and he only made her feel smaller. But she knew herself safe. She knew herself loved. She welcomed him inside her dreams, her life and in between her legs.

She welcomed his seed, his bellowing scream as he buried it deep. She welcomed the feeling of being filled, being stuffed to the brim. The queen took the king and the eggs he laid in her loins and her womb bore each and every one one.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he rubbed her rounding belly with careful claws and a strained throat. “My queen.”

If you want to spend the Winter in the Meadow, do not worry about the moaning and wailing. Do not ask about the King and Queen and in which three of hole they happen to be in. Enjoy your stay and your dreams and we’ll see you again in Spring.

 


End file.
